A Rite of Swords sr-7

by Morgan Rice

  After liberating Vinesia, Kendrick and his men began to make their way back to Silesia. Gwendolyn and Thor decided to fly back on their own and meet them there. With Mycoples, they were so much faster than the horses and had plenty of time to spare. Thor had directed Mycoples to take them on an aerial tour of the Western Kingdom. As they flew, Gwen looked down with satisfaction to see scores of Andronicus’ men wiped out, lining the ground everywhere from the Highlands to the Canyon. The Western Kingdom, she was relieved to see, was completely free.

  Of course, half the Empire army remained on the other side of the Highlands, but Gwendolyn was not worried about that now. Seeing the tremendous damage Thor had inflicted on this day, it was obvious to her that they could wipe out the remnant of Andronicus’ men in another day. Andronicus would have no choice now but to surrender, or to go down in defeat.

  For the first time in she could not remember how long, there was no longer need to worry. Now it was time to celebrate. Mycoples flapped her great wings and Gwendolyn examined her in awe, still hardly able to conceive that she was riding on the back of a dragon.

  She clutched onto Thor as they took a romantic ride throughout the Ring, looking down at the mountains and valleys and rolling hills, seeing them for the first time from this perspective. They reached the Canyon and in the far distance she could spot the sparkling yellow of the Tartuvian on the horizon. They turned and flew along the Canyon’s edge, and her breath was taken away viewing it from this perspective, its swirling mists aglow in the setting suns. It seemed as vast as the world.

  They turned and headed for Silesia, and Gwen’s heart fluttered at the thought of being reunited with all her people. Before Thor’s arrival, she had been so nervous to return, to face her people. But now, she no longer felt shame; on the contrary, she felt filled with joy and even pride. Argon’s words of wisdom had finally sunk in, and she finally realized that what happened to her had nothing to do with who she was, that it did not define her. Her entire life was ahead of her, and she had the power to choose whether she would let herself live happily or let her life be ruined. She had decided she was going to live. That was the best revenge. She would not let anything bring her down.

  All the different colors sparkled in the mist below, and it was the most romantic ride she’d ever taken, beyond her wildest dreams. She was, most of all, overjoyed to be sharing this with Thor. She couldn’t wait until they landed, until they finally had time alone together, to tell him the amazing news that she was pregnant. She sensed Thor had something to tell her, too, and couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to propose to her. She smiled at the thought of it, giddy with excitement. There was nothing in the world she wanted more.

  They flew over King’s Court and Gwendolyn’s heart dropped to see the remnant of this glorious city, its charred walls, abandoned homes, toppled fountains, and statues. But its walls, at least, still stood; they were charred and crumbling in places, but they had not all collapsed. Gwen felt determined, filled with a sense of purpose. She vowed to herself that she would rebuild King’s Court. She would make it greater than it ever was, even in her father’s time. It would be a shining bastion of hope, a beacon for all to see. They would see that the Ring had survived, and that it would continue to survive for centuries.

  They flew ever farther north, and finally, Silesia came into view, its shining red stone rising up into the air, sparkling in the horizon. Its upper and lower cities were visible even from here, and Gwen’s heart beat faster as she saw Kendrick and all the men returning from the victory, flooding through the city gates and into the huge city square.

  Thor urged Mycoples on, and they dove down, landing right in the city center. As they did, a great cheer arose amongst the men, and Mycoples arched her neck and squawked with pride.

  Thor dismounted, then took Gwen’s hand and helped her down, and as their feet touched the ground they were met with the cheers of thousands. The thick crowd ecstatically waved their hats and chanted Thor’s and Gwendolyn’s names. She could see the love and devotion on all their faces as they rushed forward and embraced her from every side. She realized they were thrilled to have her back. And the feeling filled her heart. She had thought they might look at her with shame or disappointment. She had been so wrong. They still loved her as much as they always had; perhaps even more.

  Gwen felt home again. This was her place, here, with these people, helping them. Not in a Tower of Refuge, isolating herself from the world. She needed to embrace the world. Argon had been right.

  “My sister!” came the voice.

  Gwen’s heart lifted as she turned to see her youngest brother, Reece, standing before her, alive. He had made it back from his quest in the Empire. She had never expected to see him standing before her again.

  He rushed forward and embraced her, and she hugged him back. He looked older, more battle-hardened, more mature.

  “I’m so happy you’re alive,” she said.

  The mood in the air was beyond festive, beyond jovial—it was elation. It was as if everyone here had been born again. She embraced her brother Godfrey, her brother Kendrick, and then one person after the next stepped up and embraced her, an endless stream of well-wishers. As she stood there beside her brothers, she could not help but think of her father and her other siblings. Here they stood, she, Kendrick, Godfrey and Reece, four out of six of them. Gareth had been lost to them all. And Luanda, as always, stayed apart, could not seem to get over her jealousy of Gwendolyn. But at least there were four of them, and she felt as close to Kendrick and Godfrey and Reece as she ever had. She felt, finally, as if they had all become a close family. It was ironic that it had to happen after their father had passed away.

  The rally turned into a massive celebration, all the liberated Silesians so happy to be alive, to be out from under Andronicus’ thumb. Godfrey wasted no time: he directed a group of men, with the help of Akorth and Fulton, toward hidden taverns, and soon casks of ale were rolled out into the courtyard. Shouts and cheers rose up from among all the citizens, and Gwendolyn felt herself lifted up on someone’s shoulders. She was up high in the air, crying out in delight, while Thor was placed on someone’s shoulders beside her. There came another great shout and cheer, as the two of them were paraded throughout the city. Musicians appeared, clanging cymbals, playing flutes and trumpets and drums, playing traditional, happy songs. People broke into dance.

  Gwendolyn was lowered and Thor found her, locking arms with her and spinning her around in their traditional dance. Gwen screamed with laughter as he circled with her, first in one direction, then another, the two of them dancing amongst thousands of others, spinning wildly, linking arms, then letting go. They switched partners, and Gwen found herself linking arms with Godfrey, then Kendrick, then Reece, then Elden, then O’Connor, then Srog, then back to Thor.

  They all danced and danced as the sun began to set, punctuating the air with cheers, as wineskins were passed around, with frothing mugs of ale. People drank and sang and cheered and danced some more, and to Gwen’s surprise, Silesia was once again filled with the sounds of joy and laughter.

  As the sky darkened, torches were lit everywhere, lighting up the night, and the dancing and celebration continued on as if the day had just begun. Gwen looked over and saw a makeshift stage being rolled over, a large wooden plank on wheels, a good ten feet high. As it reached the center of the square, her brother Godfrey jumped up on it with a shout, accompanied by Akorth and Fulton and several more of Godfrey’s friends whom she recognized from the taverns. They all climbed onto the stage with mugs of ale in both hands, drinking heavily, to the shouts and cheers of thousands.

  The crowd gathered around as Godfrey and Akorth and Fulton came forward and addressed them.

  “I think it’s time for a play, my fellow brothers and sisters, do you not?” Godfrey called out.

  There came a huge shout of approval in return.

  “But my Lord, what should the play be about?” Akorth bellowed in the exaggerate
d voice of a bad actor. Gwendolyn laughed.

  “I say … it’s a play about Andronicus!” Fulton chimed in.

  There came boos from the drunk and rowdy crowd.

  “And who shall play him?” Godfrey called out.

  “Why I am the tallest and fattest of you all, so I think the role would fall on me,” Akorth answered, leaning forward and scowling down at the crowd with an exaggerated look, mocking Andronicus.

  The crowd roared in delight, and Gwendolyn laughed with them. It felt so good to laugh. She felt a release of all her pent-up emotions, watching the exaggerated faces of the bad actors, all of them mocking Andronicus together. She felt safe again, felt as if she were no longer alone, as if they were all in this together. It felt so good to be alive and free again, and making fun of her worries made them all seem insubstantial.

  Thor came up beside her, slipped an arm around her waist, and pulled her tight, laughing with her. She loved the feel of his hand on her stomach; it made her think of their child. As she watched the sun set against this ancient, shining red city, she wanted to freeze this moment of joy and laughter, to make it never end. Finally, all was right in the world. She only wished it would stay this way forever.

  * * *

  Reece laughed heartily as he stood there in the crowd, beside his Legion brothers, Thor, Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, and watched Godfrey and Akorth and Fulton on the stage. It had been the first time he had laughed in he did not know how long, and he could not stop laughing as he watched Akorth mimic Andronicus.

  “I think I shall play McCloud!” Fulton boomed out to the audience.

  They all booed, and Fulton hid his face in his hands, then pulled out a handkerchief and covered one of his eyes in an eye patch.

  “Oh I forgot, I am now missing one eye!” he yelled out, mocking McCloud, and the entire crowd roared in laughter.

  “The MacGils have beaten me back, so with no other hope, I’ll join Andronicus!” Fulton yelled. He hurried across the stage and linked arms with Akorth, and together, they strutted across the stage, one tripping over the other, to waves of laughter.

  “Then that shall make it easier to kill you both!” Godfrey yelled, rushing forward with a mock sword, and stabbing each one of them.

  The crowd roared and screamed in approval as Akorth and Fulton collapsed on stage; all the other actors jumped in, pretending to stab them.

  Reece laughed with the others, the ale going to his head. After all those months of travel, it felt so good to be home. After all the travails they went through in the Empire, a part of him had never expected to make it home alive, and he was still in shock. He was so used to being in a hostile environment, to being in battle-mode, that it felt great just to have a night to rest on his heels, to not have to worry about being attacked.

  But while his friends screamed with laughter and watched the play, transfixed, Reece was distracted. Other things preoccupied his thoughts, and he broke off from the group, scanning the crowd, as he had ever since returning, looking for any sign of the woman who preoccupied his thoughts.

  Selese.

  Ever since he had returned to the Ring, Reece had been able to think of little else. He recalled that she lived in a small village not far from here, but he had also heard the reports and knew that all those villages had been attacked. He knew most villagers had died; yet he had also heard a few had escaped and had made it here, to Silesia, to seek refuge. He prayed she was among the survivors, that somehow she had made it, that she was here with the others, and that she still remembered him.

  Most of all, he hoped she cared for him even a fraction as much as he’d cared for her.

  Thoughts of Selese had sustained him throughout his quest, and he vowed that if he ever returned alive he would find her, tell her how much he cared for her. Now that he was home, he felt he had no time to waste.

  Reece hurried through the crowd, searching all the faces, eager for any sign of her. But no matter how hard he looked, stumbling through rows of people, he saw no sign of her.

  His heart sank as he pushed his way through the crowd of thousands, swarming about to and fro. With the sky growing darker, it was even harder to make out the faces gleaming in the dim torchlight. They all started to blur after a while.

  Reece began to feel hopeless. Selese had probably not made it, he told himself. And even if she had, she would likely still not be interested in him.

  The smell of food filled the air, and Reece turned to see long banquet tables being carried out in rows, heaped with all kinds of meats and cheeses and delicacies. As the servants set them out, the masses descended on them. Reece, stomach growling, ambled over, grabbed a chunk of meat, and tore into it. He had not realized how hungry he was, and as he devoured a chicken leg and a handful of potatoes, and took a long draw on his mug of ale, he felt rejuvenated.

  Reece stood there, staring vacantly up at the play, not really watching and wondering what had ever become of Selese.

  Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  Reece turned around, and his heart stopped.

  Standing there, a smile on her lips, clasping her hands nervously and looking up at him, unsure, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Selese.

  There she stood, looking at him with such love in her sparkling eyes, delight in her face at seeing him.

  Reece, caught off guard, had to blink several times, wondering if it was real or just a figment of his imagination.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said. “I found your Legion brothers, and they told me I might find you at the banquet table.”

  “Did they?” Reece said, still staring into her smiling eyes, hardly able to speak. He wanted to tell her so many things at once, how much he loved her, how he had never stopped thinking of her.

  But instead he stood there, frozen with nervousness. The words would not come out. As he stood there awkwardly, silently, she began to look unsure, as if wondering whether he were interested in even speaking with her.

  “I’ve wanted to speak to you since you left my village,” she said. “I tried to find you, and I learned you were gone.”

  “Yes, in the Empire,” Reece said. “On a quest for the Sword. We only just came back. I did not think I would come back at all.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she said.

  He looked at her, wondering.

  “Why?” he asked. “I thought, back in the village, you had said you didn’t like me.”

  She cleared her throat and worry crossed her brow.

  “I thought more about what you’d said to me. About how you love me. About how I said it was crazy.”

  He stared back at her, nodding.

  “But the thing is, I didn’t mean it,” she added. “You’re not crazy. Those feelings you felt, I feel them, too. You see, I didn’t come to Silesia for safe harbor. I came here to find you.”

  Reece felt his heart soaring as he heard her words, hardly able to process them. She was saying the very same things that had been on his mind.

  He raised a hand and ran it along her cheek.

  “On my quest, I thought of you and nothing else,” he said. “You are what sustained me.”

  She smiled wide, her eyes aglow.

  “I prayed every day for your safe return,” she said.

  The music rose again, and couples broke out dancing at the sound of the harp and the lyre.

  Reece smiled and held out a hand.

  “Will you dance with me?” he asked.

  She looked down and smiled, and lay her hand in his. It was the softest feel of his life, and his fingers felt electrified at the touch.

  “There is nothing I would love more.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Luanda stood beneath the torchlight, against the stone wall on the periphery of the courtyard of Silesia, watching the festivities, and seething. There was her sister, Gwendolyn, in the center of it all, as she had always been since they were kids, adored by everyone. It was just li
ke it had been growing up: she, Luanda, the oldest, had been passed over by their father, who had showered all his affections on his youngest daughter. Her father had treated her, Luanda, as if she’d barely existed. He had always reserved the best of everything for Gwendolyn. Especially his love.

  Luanda burned as she thought of it now, as she watched Gwendolyn, the charmed one, and it brought back fresh memories. Now here they were, so many years later, their father dead, and Gwendolyn still in the center of it all, still the one who was celebrated, adored by everyone. Luanda had never been very good at making friends, had never had the charisma or personality or natural joy for life that Gwendolyn had. She did not have the kindness or graciousness either; it just wasn’t natural to her.

  But Luanda didn’t care. In place of Gwendolyn’s kindness and charm and sweetness, Luanda had outright ambition, even aggression when she needed it. She displayed all the aggressive qualities of her father, while Gwendolyn displayed all the sweet ones. Luanda did not apologize for it; in her view, that was how people got ahead. She could be blunt and direct and even mean when she had to be. She knew what she wanted and she got things done, no matter who or what got in her way. And for that, she had always assumed people would admire and respect her.

  But instead, she had piled up a long list of enemies along the way—unlike Gwen, who had a million friends, who had never sought anything, and yet who somehow managed to get it all. Luanda watched one person after another cheer for Gwendolyn, hoist her up on their shoulders, watched her with Thorgrin, her perfect mate, while here she was, stuck with Bronson, a McCloud, maimed from his father’s attack. It wasn’t fair. Her father had treated her like chattel, had married her off to the McClouds to further his own political ambitions. She should have refused. She should have stayed here at home, and she should have been the one to inherit King’s Court when her father died.